


Non Omnis Moriar

by xfrancesca



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfrancesca/pseuds/xfrancesca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their souls reincarnate throughout the ages and somehow always find a way back to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non Omnis Moriar

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure someone had prompted me this a while ago. I had started it and decided to finish it recently.

**i.**

The first time Nasir and Agron fell in love, it was in 73 B.C. It was the first time their souls had manifested into bodies, and the first time that Agron laid his eyes upon his first and only love. It was an undeniable attraction, and not just physically.

Agron's spirit craved for the gentleness of Nasir's, for a moon to control his rising tides, to help him ebb and flow with ease. Nasir's spirit craved Agron's as well, for someone to come and pull him out from the dark, to help him see beauty in the most violent times, and to find love during a war which was spurred by the lack of love that man had for himself.

"Do you believe we will meet again?" Nasir had asked. They laid in their bedroll one night at the abandoned temple they had used as sanctuary for those few months before Glaber and his army ambushed them and forced them upon that mountain. Before Nasir's heart clenched at the sight of Agron leaving down the side of the mountain along with Spartacus and the others. 

"Do you mean if we are to be separated during battle?" Agron's hands were soft and gentle, surprisingly so for a man that could kill another without qualm, a man that had taken the lives of others not only for survival, but for revenge. His fingers brushed against Nasir's arm.

Nasir's fingers threaded through Agron's hair, and wished this moment would never end.

"No. If we are to fall," Nasir answered. "Do you believe we will meet in the afterlife?" 

Agron turned to him and regarded Nasir with nothing short of wonder. How is it that someone he had met so recently could mean so much to him? Agron had never felt this way towards another person other than his brother. 

"I believe it is the only option," he answered.

  
  


**ii.**

It was a long time before their souls found their way to one another again. In 1760, Agron went by another name, and had another body, but he was still the same gladiator that had fallen in the Third Servile War. This time, he was a wealthy aristocrat in England, and he led a lavish, if not lonely lifestyle. He had a large estate and a garden filled with all the wonderful, harlequin flowers that he could have shipped from other parts of the country and other countries as well. The Gods had not blessed him with a brother in this lifetime, and therefore his soul looked for comfort in between the thighs of prostitutes and the pages of books. He didn't prefer one over the other.

When he was not involving himself in politics or pretending to enjoy the company of the pompous humans he was surrounded by, Agron engaged in bare-knuckle boxing. An old boyhood friend of his had introduced him to the sport while in secondary school, and it had been a sinful pleasure throughout Agron's life. There was a pub down Waterly street, where Agron would go to at the right time and after saying the right words to the bartender that had a scar running down his cheek, he would be taken to a door in the back of the bar, and below the establishment was filled with smoke and the yells and cheers of men.

Agron had a fight one night and after being led down the familiar, creaky staircase that led to the underworld of the pub, he stood in one corner with his arms crossed in front of his chest, and watched the fights. The ring stood only a foot above the ground, and there were a few chairs surrounding it, but for the most part, men stood up and got as close as they could to the action.

Agron noticed a certain man watching the fights, someone who had pulled his chair back from the rest of the crowd and sat at a comfortable distance, regarding the match with mere curiosity. He was not standing, or jeering, preferring one fighter over the other, he was simply observing. Agron looked over at him and couldn't help the instant, shocking attraction he felt towards him.

Agron won his fight, as he usually did, and with his pocket a little heavier, he left the bar. He was surprised when he saw the same man from downstairs standing only a block away from the pub. He seemed to be waiting for something, or someone. Agron knew that he couldn't stop himself when he began walking towards him, and although he was aware of the blood in the corner of his own mouth and the bruising underneath his right eye, he  _needed_ to speak to him.

"Hello," he said when he finally approached the gentleman. The man had long hair that was loosely tied and hung down his back. He turned to Agron and looked at him with soft brown eyes and a curious smile.

"Hello," he echoed.

"I apologize," Agron said, and he reached out and took hold of the man's hand, warm and soft, and so insanely familiar that Agron felt as if the world around him was spinning. "I do believe that I have met you before, have I not?"

The man smiled and averted his eyes for a second, before meeting Agron's again, and something in Agron's soul whispered a name.

"Only in your dreams," Nasir said. In that moment, it was just them. It was already very late at night, so few were roaming the dark streets, but Agron felt as if they were the only ones in the world. It evoked a feeling in him, as if he was reunited with someone he held so near and dear long ago. A lost friend.

"Then please, make my dreams come true," Agron's heart raced more than it had during the fight. This was worse that anticipating a hit. This hit would be taken to his soul. If this man did not care for his interest, then perhaps Agron was just meant to live alone, to suffer in a mansion and read books that allowed him to escape the reality he was in, for eternity.

"I, uh, am not so sure of what your purpose is," the man said. Agron thought about it for a moment.  _He_ wasn't sure of his own purpose, either. He answered with the simplest of his desires.

"I would like to get to know you," he asked. The cool wind blew and a shiver ran up Agron's spine. He was smiling, and his heart swelled when Nasir smiled back.

"I think I would enjoy that," he said.

Agron promised himself that he would never allow Nasir to regret those words.

  
  


**iii.**

Third time was in the 1940's. Nasir had taken form of a young soldier, and with the second world war gaining force, it was only a matter of time before he would be deployed and fight on the front lines with his brothers in arms. He and the man that Agron took form of had lived together in a small house in New Jersey for four years already. Agron was older by about a decade, and they had met one night in a bar when Nasir was drinking and contemplating what to do with his life. They spent that first night together, and every proceeding night since then.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Nasir said. He had already gotten his physical and was deemed healthy enough for combat, and his battalion was going to depart tomorrow. The thought filled him with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Agron's eyes traveled up from the paper he was reading in front of the fireplace to Nasir's face. Nasir regained his composure and stood up straighter. He was stronger than this. He had to go and defend his country, his family, his freedom. But, more importantly, he felt as if he needed to do it for himself. To prove to himself that he was truly the man he aspired to be.

"Don't, Agron said, and he walked up behind Nasir. Nasir was too unfocused to hear his footsteps or see him coming closer. He laid back against Agron's warm, strong body.

"That's not a choice." Nasir swallowed and looked at the fireplace, the flames licking at the logs and cracking, popping, and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. "I have to help my countrymen." The flames danced in front of him. Agron knew that once Nasir had his mind set to something, he would not be deterred. It was a quality he admired greatly in the younger man, yet at this moment he wished it was a quality that he did not posses.

"It could be," Agron said. He tightened his arms around him and pressed his lips against Nasir's shoulder. 

Nasir tilted his head to the side and his eyes slipped shut. 

"I do wish that I could just stay with you," he admitted. Agron's lips kissed the skin of his neck softly. His chest constricted at the idea that Nasir might not return to him, and it was something he tried not to dwell on often.

"Just promise me one thing," Agron said. His lips hovered above Nasir's jaw, and he spoke softly for fear of letting his emotions get the better of him. The younger man nodded and Agron continued. "Come back to me, okay? I want you in my arms again after the war."

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken worries.

"I'm in your arms right now," Nasir turned around to face Agron and pressed their lips together. "Give me something to remember while I'm gone."

Agron smiled against the other man's lips. "I'll give you everything."

  
  


Nasir didn't return from overseas.

  
  


**iv.**

The most recent time Agron and Nasir fell in love was a few years ago. Somehow their souls found way to bodies that matched their original ones to an unbearable likeness. It was almost as if their bodies as the rebels in the War had completely reincarnated. Agron had been granted a brother in this lifetime, one just as loving and fun as Duro once was, and although Nasir was an only child, his parents had raised him in the constant company of family, friends, and a lot of love.

It seemed as if everything leading up to the point in their lives in which they would meet each other was going smoothly.

Nasir sat at a window seat at the cafe; a small, warm place he frequented often since his friend Chadara owned it. It was raining heavily outside and Nasir took great pleasure in sipping his coffee and watching the world through the window. Scents of pastries and coffee filled the establishment, and when the bell above the door chimed, Nasir glanced up at the patron.

A tall, handsome man with broad shoulders walked through the door, and he tossed the newspaper he had been using to shield himself from the rain into a garbage can near the door. Nasir brought the coffee cup to his lips but did not drink, as his dark eyes were intent on the stranger. He didn't usually check someone out so blatantly, but this guy was big and so  _tall_ , and although his back was turned to Nasir as he went up to the counter, Nasir had caught a glimpse of his face when he walked in. Definitely not bad.

Nasir forced himself to look away from the man and instead back to the window. He watched the people walking briskly along the streets, umbrellas open or running to avoid getting soaked. Nasir was glad that he watched the news that morning and saw the _thirty-percent chance of rain_ advisory. Thirty percent almost always meant it was set in stone that it was going to rain that day.

"Excuse me."

Nasir turned to the source of the voice and saw the handsome man standing beside his table. His hair was stuck to his forehead from the rain but his green eyes were open and warm. A smile came to Nasir's lips.

"Is this seat taken?" The man asked. Nasir glanced around; there were a handful of other tables that were empty, and in that second Nasir realized that perhaps the man didn't want to sit next to him, but might just want the seat itself. He looked back up at the man and shook his head.

"Go ahead," he said, and resumed looking out the window again, fully expecting the man to take the chair and drag it to one of the tables, but he saw from his peripheral that he had taken a seat right next to him.

"Raining cats and dogs," the man said. He took his jacket off and hung it on the back of his chair. He took off the lid of his coffee cup and allowed it to cool off.

Nasir smirked and looked at the man. 

"I'm Nasir," he finally said, and the man looked up at him from his drink.

"Oh," the man said. "I'm Agron."

Nasir chuckled. "That's an odd name," he pointed out, and Agron shrugged. 

"I feel like I've heard of the name Nasir before," Agron said. His green eyes shone with something alike to fascination. 

Nasir raised an eyebrow. "It's not that common," he said. Truth be told, he felt as if he had heard the name Agron before, which was a ridiculous idea.  _Surely_ they hadn't met before.

  
  


It was only years later when the two were living together that they would get the eerie feeling that this  _wasn't_ the first time. It would come at the most innocent of moments. Perhaps it was when Nasir would lean against the doorframe and watch Agron sleep in the morning, or when Agron pressed his nose into Nasir's hair and inhaled its sweet scent, or when one of them had a rough day and the other kissed and caressed their troubles away. 

It would happen; a feeling, like a flashback or a déjà vu, and Nasir could have  _sworn_ it wasn't the first time they have said or done a certain thing. Agron would realize it too, but he was quicker to push it to the back of his mind, even when it was difficult to do so. 

Like the one time Agron went on a business trip, and when came back home weeks later, Nasir was waiting for him at the airport, and he embraced him and kissed him in front of everyone. Even though it was the first time Agron had been away for an extended period of time, Nasir felt as if it was not the first time he felt the anticipation of waiting for him, filled with curiosity and impatience.

A few nights ago they laid together in bed, limbs tangled and breathing slow and steady. They were both on the verge of sleep. It had been one of Agron's closest friend's birthday that day, and the party lasted well into the night and the couple drank enough that when they arrived home they just wanted to sleep.

"Hey," Nasir whispered. "You awake?" He turned onto his side and pressed a kiss to Agron's neck.

Agron opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Yeah," he mumbled. He looked at Nasir with a curious expression. Nasir licked his lips and spoke, albeit slightly unsure.

"This is gonna sound ridiculous but do you believe in... Uh, like," he fumbled to find the words, which was not like him.

"Soul-mates?" Agron smiled. Nasir raised an eyebrow at that.

"Yeah, how did you...?" 

Agron shrugged. "I was thinking about the same thing earlier today. Didn't want to mention it in case you thought I was being a sap or something."

"Yeah, you tend to do that sometimes," Nasir agreed with a grin.

Agron's arms tightened around Nasir. 

"Sometimes..." Agron said, voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I feel like I've met you before. Like, in another life. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I have these moments where it's like I've seen you before, and not just on the street. I," he sighed. "I can't really explain it."

"I understand," Nasir said. And he did, more than he cared to admit. At first the experience was something that made Nasir uneasy, feeling as if they've somehow done all of this before, but it soon became a phenomenon he accepted.

They didn't speak for a while, both men on the verge of sleep, when Agron said something.

"Either way," he said, "I hope I meet you in the life after this." There was a small smile on his lips. Nasir nodded an hummed in agreement, but he was barely awake.

Whether they had only one life together or multiple ones, they would make the best of it.


End file.
